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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23713726">A Thief in the Night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonslaeyr/pseuds/Dragonslaeyr'>Dragonslaeyr</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Actual Thief Bilbo Baggins, Bilbo is a bit prejudiced against dwarves, First Meetings, Infatuation at first bicker, M/M, Smitten Thorin, The bastard twin of love at first sight, They are very loud</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:00:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,357</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23713726</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonslaeyr/pseuds/Dragonslaeyr</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins: Gentlehobbit, connoisseur of fine mushrooms, and the finest burglar west of Bree</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>333</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Thief in the Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was literally born of my craving for more fics of Bilbo being an actual thief, so as I pound the table for more, I hope you enjoy my little addition!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first sign that Bilbo Baggins was going to have to leave came from exactly who he expected it to come from.</p><p>"Hmph!" </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Bilbo refused to look up at his cousin's figure, her colourful outfit boldly declaring itself from his peripheries. He continued browsing through the wide selection of mushrooms in the market, hemming and hawing loudly to himself as he scanned the tables for firm, unbruised mushrooms.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I never—!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Bilbo began to hum loudly to himself, taking a pointed step away and moving further down the stall as Elsie Clayhanger leaned over the edge of the stall carefully, grinning at Bilbo as she waited for him to make his purchases.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"The gall of some hobbits!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Miss Lobelia are you talking to someone?" Elsie piped up, and Bilbo found himself forced to face his cousin as he hefted a rather impressive bird's bone mushroom. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Oh Lobelia, I'm afraid I didn't see you there!" Bilbo smiled widely, handing off his mushrooms to Elsie, who began to pack them delicately in paper and string. "How's Otho?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You ought not to be here, Bilbo," Lobelia replied instead, and Bilbo sighed, digging through his pockets for two silver and trying not to show his annoyance at only finding a handful of copper. He began to count out the coins individually like a miser, and felt Lobelia's disappointed gaze upon him. "There's trouble afoot."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Oh? And where might this mysterious trouble be which hides itself so excellently from me, yet so poorly from you?" Bilbo shoved the pile of coins towards Elsie, who looked perfectly content as she handed Bilbo back his produce. He began to wander away, his precious foodstuffs now secured, only to find Lobelia continue apace with him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"The Great East Road, where it always is," she sighed dramatically. "I've heard it's a whole <em>pack</em>."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"A pack of <em>what</em> exactly, Lobelia?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Yet she only shook her head slowly, sadly, and turned away with a tut, leaving Bilbo alone with his food and dread beginning to pool in his stomach. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>➶</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Oy, Bilbo!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Bilbo turned, glancing back over his shoulder as he spotted Eglantine Took racing to catch up to him. The moment she made it to his side, she slid her arm into his and began to pull him along, though thankfully in the direction of Bag End. "Heard the news?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Perhaps," Bilbo replied, which was a true enough statement.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"The Great East Road, eh? Bit o' excitement for ya?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"It comes with the job, I suppose," Bilbo returned easily, and Eglantine nodded vigorously.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Jus' remember Bil, if y'ever need a protegé or anything, I'm here."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I don't think I will any time soon," Bilbo replied carefully, patting her arm. "But thank you for the offer."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Eglantine nodded, extracting her arm and giving Bilbo a proper salute before turning to gallop back down the hill towards town. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Bilbo shuddered. Anything big enough to make Eglantine dream of running off <em>had</em> to be bad news.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>➶</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Really, what truly cinched his fate wasn't Lobelia or Eglantine, or even Bilbo's own honour. No, it was perhaps the least likely character that Bilbo could have guessed.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I s'pose we won't be seeing you about for a few days then, Mister Bilbo?" </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"About that," Bilbo began, turning to face Hamfast with a scrutinising eye. "What do you know about all this... <em>business</em>?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Oh, well, just tha' Farmer Maggot heard a great big commotion the other day and went about telling everyone he came across that our Baggins fellow oughta look into it." Hamfast at least had the decency to look apologetic.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Oh, did he now?" Bilbo sighed, tapping his foot on the hard-packed earth and trying not to show too much of his annoyance. "And what, pray tell, was the cause of this ruckus?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Hamfast pulled his hat from his head and clutched it in his hands tightly, looking upset. "Well tha' would probably be the group of thirteen dwarves, Mister Bilbo."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Bilbo <em>groaned</em>.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>➶</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ultimately, the people of Hobbiton agreed that all this ridiculous behaviour came down to the union of the Baggins family with the Tooks. The Baggins family had always been known for their quiet, unassuming nature, which stood at complete odds with the wild and adventuring desires that filled the heart of Tooks. In the end, it wasn't all that surprising that a Took and  Baggins would join together and start burgling travelers.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>What <em>was</em> surprising was how easily the people of Hobbiton took to it.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Of course, if asked, most hobbits would shrug and note that as long as they weren't doing any lasting damage, you ought to keep your nose out of others' business. Not that such words meant that they <em>approved</em> of such behaviour, but no hobbit was going out of their way to put a stop to it either. In time too, those hobbits who lived beyond the Shire, nearer to the woods and the Great East Road, noticed fewer caravans passing by and a drop in the amount of stray Men and Dwarves wandering through their crops and disturbing the well-cultivated peace. Their suspicions were confirmed when a handful of hobbits returned from a night in Bree with tales from Men of twin shadows in the night that snatched the gold right from their hands without so much as a sound.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>So yes, the people of Hobbiton didn't mind the Baggins family taking a 10% cut of the changepurses of travellers who passed a little too close to their quiet townships, especially if it kept them away from the Shire and their way of life. Not to mention that the Bagginses were always quite generous with their money, so much so that it never quite rankled anyone. At least, never enough to do any real, lasting damage, and certainly not enough to hold onto a grudge after the complaining hobbit found a few extra silver in their coffers the next morning.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>And so Belladonna and Bungo Baggins lived their days quietly, keeping their home safe from wayward travelers and getting a bit rich in the process, and things were good. Which is precisely the time when Bilbo Baggins was born into the world.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>➶</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Bilbo found himself setting out far too early the following morning, on the back of a pony who didn't even <em>want</em> to leave the Shire.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Nonsense!" Hamfast patted Azalea's flank lovingly, looking up at Bilbo sunnily. "Azzie loves goin' out on trips, don'tcha my darling?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Bilbo shifted the reins in his hand and triple-checked his saddlebag to ensure he had all the essentials. Tucked away in various pockets and pouches were several handkerchiefs, a small handful of crusty breads and hard cheeses, and two or three straps in case his slingshot broke and he had to whittle a new one. He had more, but before he could do a full inventory, Hamfast was stepping back and fixing Bilbo with another cheery look. "Now don' go running off into the Wild, Mister Bilbo. 'Specially not with my pony, y'hear?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Bilbo shot Hamfast a mock salute and nudged at Azalea's hindquarters with his heel, setting the pony off. He twisted to look back at Hamfast, surprised at her sudden jolt of speed and flashed a wry smile back at his friend and gardener. "If I'm gone for more than a week Hamfast Gamgee, you can take Bag End and my job as well, because I'd be so changed that I couldn't possibly claim the name Baggins again!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Hamfast only laughed, shaking his head and crumpling and uncrumpling his hat in his hands with good cheer. It was only once Bilbo had rounded the corner of the bend on the stout, golden pony that he chanced an innocent look at Bag End and hummed thoughtfully. It <em>was</em> a charming little smial.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>➶</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Dwarves, Bilbo had decided, were truly the loudest race in the whole of Middle Earth, and quite possibly Arda itself. Really, it was no contest. The cities of Men could hardly compare to the clank of dwarven boot buckles, and Durin I surely had been awoken not by Mahal's hands, but his own inability to sleep through the almighty roar of dwarven snores. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Creeping silently around the edge of their camp, Bilbo lazily swooped low behind a patch of juniper, less hiding than simply standing out of sight. A lesser man may have called the two things one in the same, but as Bilbo looked down at himself, almost appalled at how <em>visible</em> he was where he was standing and how oblivious the dwarf on watch was as he whistled tunelessly and carved a block of wood, Bilbo wondered if he couldn't simply walk into their camp and take whatever he wished. Certainly it seemed that way, for the dwarves were all splayed out around the clearing, sleeping soundly in spite of the rough ground, and the one on watch seemed to be less, well, <em>watchful</em> than deep in concentration upon his craft, eyes transfixed on the small block.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Bilbo took a hesitant step forward and wondered if this was somehow a trap. The watch-dwarf shifted and turned away from the camp, facing outwards and away from Bilbo. The mind boggled.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Still, Bilbo hadn't become as skilled as he was by turning down the opportunity to thieve because it was <em>too easy</em>. Rather the opposite, in fact. His steps were light and careful as he moved around the edge of the camp, keeping close to the bushes that lined their campsite and Bilbo briefly spared a thought for what a lovely little clearing they had found for themselves. He cast his thief's eyes over the dwarves, scanning each individual for whichever one seemed to have the most of those famous dwarven beads for him to steal. He was just leaning over one dwarf, curled a bit too close to two others for Bilbo's liking, but with a mass tangle off intricate braids that were all bound up in shining beads, when there was a harsh sound to Bilbo's left. He was back instantly, buried in the mess of juniper bushes before he had a chance to scan the clearing and realise that it had only been the nasally snore of a dwarf—and were those moths coming out of his nose? Good god. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>But he had a job to do, and this new vantage point gave Bilbo direct line-of-sight to a lone dwarf, slumped in a sitting position on a flat stone above the rest. He looked tense, as if ready to leap up, but his eyes were closed with lazy exhaustion, and as the clouds drifted overhead to reveal a sliver of moonlight, it revealed two silvery gleams from deep within his mass of dark hair. Bilbo could feel his lips curling into a smile.<em> Perfect.</em></p>
</div><div>
  <p>The brush thinned out at that part of the camp, and Bilbo noted with a hint of nervousness how close he was to the edge of a cliff. His lightness suited the situation however, and he stepped over crumbling stone and up behind the flat boulder, blending into the shadows. His blood was pumping heavily through his veins, and Bilbo felt his instincts rush over him as he crept through shadows and found himself hovering just over the dwarf's head. In a brief moment of hesitation Bilbo paused, his eyes tracing the form of the sleeping dwarf, skating up and over his face. It was a handsome one from above, undeniably so with the angular jut of his nose and the dark fan of lashes over his high cheeks, and Bilbo felt his hand creeping forward, brushing lightly at the thick locks of hair that fell about his shoulders—<em>quickly, quickly, dwarf hair is sensitive, don't get your fingers caught in the tangles</em>—and revealing the silver beads beneath. They were two large cylindrical things, likely large enough to be worn like a ring over Bilbo's little finger, and he took a momentary reprieve to cast an eye around the camp once more, scanning for any disturbances before looking back down at the dwarf. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The braids weren't complicated, but they <em>were</em> nestled deep within the mane of the dwarf, and Bilbo almost wondered if they were worth it when he caught sight of another glint of silver, not a bead but a thick square clasp hidden in a lock at the back of his hair. Bilbo paused, something niggling at the back of his mind at the sight of such a piece. He cast another brief glance up at the camp, cursory and almost pointless as he immediately leaned in closer, carefully brushing back the thick strands of glossy dark hair and there, <em>just there</em>, was the clasp.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Bilbo hardly dared to think on it, simply letting his hands do the work while his mind buzzed and blurred at his prize—<em>was it...? Could it be...?</em>—and before he was entirely aware of what he had been doing Bilbo had, cupped in his hands, a large silvery clasp engraved in thick dwarven designs, all geometric lines and sharply carved angles. For the briefest of moments, Bilbo allowed himself a peek over at the twin silver beads again; but then the dwarf stirred and Bilbo swallowed the squeak that he almost let slip, instead sliding back into the shadows and ducking low among the rocks. However, he must not have been quiet enough because there was a sharp clatter of pebbles  from where the dwarf had been sleeping. Bilbo darted away, wincing as he had to rush directly through a low beam of moonlight, yet not feeling like a fool, not <em>yet</em>, not with the prize he held clutched in hand. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Bofur?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"<em>Oy</em>?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Bofur!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>The clatter of pebbles became the clink of mail as the dwarf had seemingly stood, possibly even catching sight of Bilbo. He was already into the treeline however, and he darted forward, intent on move deeper until he realised where he was. Skidding to a stop, Bilbo cast an anxious glance up at the trees that creaked above him. There was no wind, even at this height, yet the trees seemed to bend and warp in swaying motions high above Bilbo's head. He let out a quiet whimper at the sight, memories of his mother's fairy stories about ghosts and living trees rushing to the forefront of his mind, all told to him in an effort to keep him from walking at night through the Downs. Unbidden, his mind drifted to the stories his cousins had told him as well, which compounded with his mother's tales but with the helpful addition of describing poor lost hobbits' untimely and very, <em>very</em> gruesome deaths. Without thinking, Bilbo twisted around, darting back towards the dwarf camp and, gritting his teeth, slipping beneath the brush of juniper bushes to curl himself at the base of one. He forced his breath to slow—something else his mother had taught him when he was but a faunt—and he listened for the sounds coming from up ahead.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"—idn't see nothing, I didn't! I swear!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>There was a sound like a growl, and through the thicket of branches, Bilbo caught sight of glossy dark hair and the flash of a silver sword. "Bofur, I awake to see a shadow racing out of camp and my <em>damâmafh</em> missing. Unless, perhaps, you believe I was merely seeing things? Or would you instead wish to search my hair for my missing heirloom? I swear to sit still for your search."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Bilbo craned his neck slightly to spy the other dwarf, unsurprised when he spotted the lax night's watch, hands gripping a rather tattered looking hat, his face screwed up in a wince. "I don't doubt your word, and I certainly don't intend to go rooting through your locks."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Well then," Bilbo's dwarf was glaring flinty looks back at the watch-dwarf—<em>Bofur?</em>—and his body was so tense that Bilbo thought he would assuredly snap at any moment. "Would you prefer to go searching for the thief, or shall I?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Ah, hm, well- That is to say, ah—" Bofur looked absolutely wretched, worrying at his hat with tense fingers. "You probably shouldn't do it, just in case they mean ye harm. Not that ye couldn't fight off a silly little thief! But, ah. I, I'll go look for the li'l <em>uthrab</em>."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Much obliged." The words were said with such poison that Bilbo almost felt sorry for the other dwarf, but he supposed that if he had been somewhat more malicious—not to mention better armed—then this entire situation might have been far more dire. Still, that <em>was</em> the overall intent of what he did. <em>Steal something, give 'em a scare, and send 'em packing</em>, as his father would always say. Bilbo looked down at the small clasp he still held, gripped so tightly in hand that it had left red geometric markings across his palms. He held it up to the thin beams of light that the nearly-banked fire managed to weakly spit out through the gaps in the juniper bush. Even in the dim, the metal glimmered a bright white-silver, and as Bilbo twisted it in hand, he thought that he had never seen an object so beautiful. The refraction of light scattered across the forest floor, and wildly, Bilbo thought it looked like starlight, blue and silver and alive in his hands. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Mithril," Bilbo whispered, his words barely louder than a breath, and he had to stifle a giggle. Even there, under the sharp, prickling branches of juniper and atop the rough sliminess of stones and mud, Bilbo settled into a sleep, his dreams awash with images of white silver so bright that it nearly blinded him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>➶</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Oi! Watch where yer goin', Halfling!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Sorry, sorry!" Bilbo bobbed back from the torrent of sloshing beer that fell from the dangerously unsteady pint above his head. He ducked away from the alcohol-fueled ire of a hulking Man who stumbled back from the bar and glared daggers at Bilbo as he departed, unaware of his now significantly<em> lighter</em> changepurse. Bilbo turned away from the Man, whistling cheerily as he scanned the cast of characters splayed before him like the pages of a storybook: Men gathered in groups both small and large, some playing cards while others merely drank and ate, and still more barely disguised their shifting eyes and glinting, dull blades. A small handful of hobbits filled one corner of the inn, though their clothes spoke of their positions as Bounders—Bilbo reminded himself to steer clear of them for fear of recognition, or worse: retribution. Still, none of them were his true targets—though the Men's coin had significantly made up for the extra days of travel that he had been forced to endure—and he frowned as he craned his neck about the crowded inn of the Prancing Pony, vainly attempting to see around the massive forms that blocked his every view, and cursing Mannish towns for their sheer nature. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He had woken that very morning, the morning after his discovery, to the bustle of his dwarves packing up, and Bilbo had allowed himself a kind of morning lie-in, determined that he had had his fill of this adventure and was surely finished with it. Except as he had closed his eyes, his sleep had been interrupted by the loud bellows of dwarven conversation.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Y'said someone stole yer <em>damâmafh</em>?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Aye, though I know not how. You know how lightly I sleep, Dwalin."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Maybe it was one of those little things we passed by. What did the wizard call them? Bobbits?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Bilbo's eyes had shot open at that, and through the brush he saw <em>his</em> dwarf talking to a great hulk of a thing with twin battle axes strapped over his shoulders. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"No, they were a delicate people. Too soft to venture further from their homes than their front gardens."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Bilbo could have sworn then that the world had gone red. His dwarf continued.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I believe it may have been a Mannish thief. Perhaps even a renegade dwarf who bids ill on our quest."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>And, well. What could Bilbo have done then but seethe silently into the brush and, at the first sign of the dwarves' departure, race back to where he had camped out, mounting Azalea and urging her down the Great Road in hot pursuit of the dwarven company. <em>Mannish thief, indeed</em>, Bilbo had grit his teeth.<em> I'll show them a Mannish thief.</em></p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Why if it isn't Bilbo Baggins, in the flesh!" Bilbo froze then, halfway through working his way back up into a proper strop again until he was suddenly interrupted by a strangely familiar voice ringing out over the din of the room. He twisted just as a great lumbering Man stepped away from the fireplace to reveal another tall Man dressed in all grey, who was plucking his oddly pointed hat from his head and beaming directly at Bilbo.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Desperately, Bilbo cast an eye about for a possible escape, but the Man was already waving Bilbo over with his unlit pipe and, as Bilbo gave him another cursory look, he doubled back at the sight of <em>his</em> dwarf seated at the Man's side, looking entirely nonplussed by the unfolding events. Bilbo's desire for vindication reared its ugly head with a vengeance but he swallowed it back. He was annoyed, yes, but he had also been made a bit rich by this dwarf, and as he fingered the square clasp that sat heavy in his pocket, his curiosity over him far outweighed the petty anger that had spurred him to follow the dwarven company all the way to Bree. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Hesitantly, Bilbo made his way over to the Man, pausing as he stepped into the small alcove and eventually settling upon a footstool across from the dwarf. The Man reclined between the two of them on his Mannish couch, their three seats forming a crude U around the fire, and Bilbo refused to be the first to speak as he watched the dwarf begin to light his pipe while the Man eyed Bilbo with no small amount of fascination. "You don't remember me, do you?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Ah, hm." Bilbo, while a burglar, was still a gentlehobbit of the highest order, and he refused to admit that he did not remember an acquaintance. "I find any number of things slipping my mind at any number of moments."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I believe you may remember me best as Gandalf the Grey," the Man smiled, only he was no ordinary Man. No, Bilbo blinked twice as a rush of memories from his faunthood came back to him—flashes of bright fireworks and warm cups of milky tea shared with his mother and tears shed as a tall, grey figure departed down the winding path away from Bag End.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Oh!" Bilbo's eyes widened, and he shot a cursory glance towards his dwarf, wondering briefly why he would find himself in the company of such a character. "Yes, of course! I, ah—I had no idea you were still, well... But it's no matter! No matter at all, of course. What brings you to Bree?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I might ask you the same thing," Gandalf eyed Bilbo thoughtfully, and Bilbo wondered suddenly how much the old wizard knew of his area of work. "We found ourselves passing through Hobbiton not four days ago, and I hung back in hopes of seeing you, only to find that you were already out on your own adventure!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Gandalf's tone was warm, but his eyes were alight with curiosity, and Bilbo shrank at the great fount of knowledge hidden within. He coughed. "Yes, well. I believe I was out that day and, ah, left early the next morning to come here. Bree has a few shops which carry very specific goods, I'll have you know. No hobbit sells quite as fine, ah, travellers' cloaks! As you can see, mine is quite lacking." Bilbo held up his water-stained cloak ruefully, and watched the thoughtful looks from the dwarf and Gandalf in turn.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"And what purpose does a hobbit have for a travellers' cloak anyway?" Gandalf asked innocently, and Bilbo blinked up at the wizard, suddenly at a loss for words.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Come, Gandalf," Bilbo's head jerked towards the dwarf as he interrupted, puffing at his pipe. "The halfling has clearly weathered much. I doubt he was expecting an inquest over a reunion with an old friend. Here." The last part was directed towards Bilbo as the dwarf pushed his plate across the table to him, and who suddenly became aware of all the numerous meals he had skipped over this particular adventure. Bilbo flashed a grateful smile at the dwarf before digging in readily, even as Gandalf shot a chiding look at the dwarf.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"My thanks," Bilbo managed around a mouthful of bread and stew. "I'm afraid I do not recognize you, however. Unless my memory is truly acting the fool on this night, in which case I apologize."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I'm afraid I have not had the pleasure, no." The dwarf's eyes were warm, but shuttered off and Bilbo struggled to read into them as he glanced up at the dwarf between bites. "Thorin."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Thorin," Bilbo hummed the name thoughtfully, before extending his hand out in supplication. "Bilbo Baggins, at your service."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Thorin's hand was warm and dry against Bilbo's palm, his grip engulfing Bilbo's to an almost absurd degree. He released it slowly, watching Bilbo carefully the whole time, and Bilbo chose to ignore the strange gaze as he cast a measured look around the room. "And where are your companions?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"My what?" For the first time, Thorin's voice wavered from its measured tone, and it was only the years of having to think under pressure that allowed Bilbo not to freeze at his mistake, instead continuing his quick scan of the room before looking back at his own companions.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I assumed most dwarves travel in caravans, no? I've only ever seen merchants and craftsmen along the Road, and especially in Bree." Bilbo cast a wide-eyed look at Gandalf, trying to look pointedly innocent. "Or are you two travelling by yourselves?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"No," Thorin's voice was hesitant as he spoke. "You are not incorrect. My companions retired earlier this eve. Gandalf and I stayed up to discuss... our travel plans."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Ah, sleep," Bilbo hummed mournfully as he sipped the last of the stew and pushed it away, patting his belly easily. "Such an elusive creature! I admit, I am a bit jealous of them."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Have you had such a restless journey?" Gandalf asked, and Bilbo flashed him a grin.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Oh, don't get me started..." Bilbo settled back, beginning to weave a tale of his past few days, plucking details from obscurity and his own imagination in equal measure, all the while keeping a careful eye on Gandalf. Half-heartedly, he was attempting to gauge the wizard's mind and just how much he knew of Bilbo's goings-on. And yet, after so many days with only Azalea for company, Bilbo found an attentive audience even more compelling than any feeble attempts at reading the mind of a wizard, and so he let it pass and instead embellished his story a touch more, if only for the flash of a smile that briefly graced Thorin's face as he finished.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Well!" Gandalf puffed brightly at his pipe, having lit it through some strange means halfway through Bilbo's story. "You certainly have had quite a trip, my friend! It is a boon to the both of us that we found each other at the end of it, I think."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Bilbo only flashed a smile in response, choosing to pull out his own pipe, though he briefly mourned the fact that he did not have a means of lighting it.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Here." From across the table, a pair of hands extended, and Bilbo dutifully gripped his pipe between his teeth, lowering the bowl towards Thorin's outstretched palms. He struck a small flame quickly, and Bilbo exhaled softly, allowing himself to bask in the soft glow of his pipeweed as he sat back. For the briefest of moments, he allowed himself to glance up and catch Thorin's gaze, which was bright and sharply focused on him in return. Bilbo glanced away, puffing at the pipe in a bid to have something else to focus on, shaken by the intensity of Thorin's gaze. Could he have recognized Bilbo from what shadows he had seen? Surely not, else he would have mentioned it by now. Right?</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I think," Gandalf's hummed thoughtfully, glancing around the room. "That I shall turn in for the night and leave you two to converse." He stood and plucked his hat from the seat beside him, poking and prodding it into its original shape before squashing it back onto his head. He stepped beside Thorin and ducked down to whisper a quick word in his ear before straightening up, beaming at Bilbo. "I do hope I shall see you at breakfast tomorrow, Bilbo. It has been a delight to see you again. You are quite the picture of your mother, sitting here. Good night!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>And with that, Gandalf wandered up the stairs towards the rooms and Bilbo was left with Thorin, whose gaze had turned sour at Gandalf's whispers, and was now seemingly glaring daggers into the fireplace. For a brief moment, Bilbo allowed himself a second to study the dwarf, to take in his bearing here, off the road and in the (relative) safety of the Prancing Pony. He felt somewhat appalled at the well of curiosity that bubbled up in him as he watched Thorin angrily puffing away at his pipe, the smoke fluttering about his face and giving him an air of mystery and melancholy far greater than Bilbo could have guessed at. He relented to his own whims and spoke up. "So where are you headed?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Hmm?" The only sign that Thorin had heard him was the slight tilt of his head as he stared into the fire, though he flicked his eyes towards Bilbo at the last moment, pulling his own dying pipe from between his lips to speak. "To visit kin in the Iron Hills."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Oh!" Bilbo brightened, sitting up in place. "Is that near Greenwood, then?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Thorin frowned, turning to face Bilbo again fully. "...Aye, I suppose. Why do you ask?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Oh, I've always had a pet fascination with Elvish culture," Bilbo hummed. "My mother taught me a small bit of Sindarin as a child. I believe Gandalf knew her from once whisking her off to Rivendell. All very improper, but it certainly gave her plenty of stories to tell me as a child!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Thorin suddenly looked very disgruntled, grumbling as he tipped the contents of his pipe into the fire and ignoring the small sparks that floated up from the ash, winking out in a brief scatter around his face. He didn't look back at Bilbo, instead fussing inanely at his pipe as he replied. "Mirkwood is a dark place. There is no warmth or friendship to be found there, for halflings or dwarves."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Bilbo grinned at Thorin's petulance, leaning in closer towards the dwarf. "And I suppose that has nothing to do with the white gems of Lasgalen, then?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Thorin shot a haughty glare towards Bilbo, opening his mouth to speak before Bilbo cut him off, propping his chin in palm as he smiled at the dwarf. "Fear not, Master Dwarf, for I was not intending on besmirching the fine name of dwarves everywhere. You know of your kind's unparallelled crafting skill, or I'm sure you'd be much more angry."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Thorin only hummed at that, still glowering, though Bilbo found it more amusing than dark in that moment. Feeling unexpectedly emboldened in the faux privacy of their alcove, Bilbo pressed on. "What of you, though? Carrying gems of your own to the Iron Hills? I hear that there has been much activity about the Blue Mountains of late."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Thorin shot a strange, careful look towards Bilbo before he ducked low, stowing his pipe in a hidden pocket as he answered in kind. "And what interest does a hobbit hold for gems and such finery?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Ah, you'll find I have many interests," Bilbo replied easily, exhaling a long breath of smoke. "Or perhaps an old hobbit such as myself can find time in his retirement to be fascinated by dwarves as well as elves."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"And what of Men, then?" Thorin raised a single imperious eyebrow, the bustle around them speaking volumes on his behalf. "Do they catch your fancy so easily, or is there another reason you find yourself in a strange pub along a travellers' road?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I was simply following a strange group of dwarves and found myself here," Bilbo grinned, and if Thorin did not quite laugh, it was a near thing.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>There was a brief warm pause as Bilbo concerned himself instead with puffing away at his pipe. He jumped slightly when he heard Thorin speak, glancing up to see the dwarf looking somewhat more mollified. "And what are hobbits known for, then?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Oh, many things. We are all of us excellent cooks and fine homemakers, and there's not one hobbit of age who couldn't drink a dwarf under the table." He grinned at Thorin, whose flat stare was all the protest needed. Bilbo sobered somewhat, his other hand absently tracing shapes over the grain of the table. "Hobbits are hardy people. We till the earth and care for its growing things. But you dwarves would care not for such frivolous things, so I suppose I must add that we are quite quick on our feet, and may often walk silently where others cannot."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Like elves?" Thorin snorted, disdainfully.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Better than elves." It was Bilbo's turn to be offended, and he wrinkled his nose at the very idea. "All you Big Folk tromp around in your boots and your clanking mail. We hobbits know the land, and use it to stay hidden from your... ways."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"And yet here you are, in a Mannish town, speaking with a dwarf."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Ah, well," Bilbo hummed, smiling again at his companion. "Not all of us are good at being hobbits."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>It was Thorin's turn to lean in close then, his hand running back and forth over his short beard as he mirrored Bilbo's pose, dropping his elbow to the table and returning the hobbit's gaze. "Then what, pray tell, are you good at Bilbo Baggins?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Ah!" He grinned and leaned in closer to Thorin so that he could stage-whisper into his ear. The dwarf's countenance had shifted to amusement, and Bilbo found that he had never met a being in Middle Earth who could burn so hot and cold as Thorin. "If you must know, I'm very skilled at the game of conkers."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Thorin laughed, rich and deep, as Bilbo pulled back, though he made sure to not move far, still balancing his chin in hand and letting the low murmurs of dying conversations wrap around the two of them, leaving them in a companionable quiet. Still, Bilbo found himself itching to know more about this strange dwarf who he only half knew, sitting uncomfortably in the knowledge that what he did know of Thorin had primarily been learned through somewhat spurious means. "How do you know Gandalf, then?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"He joined us on our... travels, though I met him ages back, here in Bree. He is an interesting companion, to say the least."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Ach, more meddlesome than anything else!" Bilbo waved his hand vaguely. "I'm shocked he hasn't convinced you to participate in some grandiose plan to kill a dragon or raze a city!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Hmm," Thorin hummed. "That would be quite a feat."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Mark my words," Bilbo huffed. "Where Gandalf goes, trouble is sure to follow."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"And you, Master Baggins?" Thorin's expression was unreadable as he studied Bilbo. "They say hobbits are lucky, do they not? Perhaps an adventurous little thing as you would join us on our journey. To combat any of the wizard's strife, of course."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Bilbo had not been expecting such a proposition, and he found himself choking on his own pipeweed, hacking out a rough cough that left him shaky as Thorin patted him on the back, if a bit roughly. "A mere suggestion. You need not accept."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I—" Bilbo cleared his throat once more, chancing a look at Thorin from beneath his downturned lashes, and found the dwarf looking deceptively calm. "I am no traveller, nor an adventurer. You would likely be better off asking a Bounder, or even one of the bolder Tooks."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I asked you, however," Thorin continued to watch Bilbo, but turned away at the last moment. "It is no matter. Merely a passing fancy. Do not dwell on it."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Bilbo continued to watch Thorin hesitantly, but even without the strange twists and turns of his day he found that he was exhausted and could hardly stifle the yawn that bloomed in his chest. Thorin looked briefly alarmed, standing abruptly. "I apologize, I did not intend to keep you up so late."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Bilbo tried to wave him off and assure him that he wasn't tired, but found himself yawning again instead. Accepting defeat, he stood from his own seat, shaking his head to briefly clear his mind of its fog, and dumping the ash from his pipe into the now thoroughly banked fire. When he turned back, he saw Thorin hovering at the base of the stairs, and Bilbo flashed him a tired smile as he padded over, following behind the dwarf and unable to keep his mind from the warm bed that was sure to follow.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Thorin's steps were heavy and thunderous, and Bilbo stifled his laughter behind his hand as he followed silently behind. It was his mistake however, as Thorin stopped before what must have been his room and jerked when he realised how close Bilbo was, stumbling forward and catching himself on Bilbo's shoulders. Instinctively Bilbo reached up, grasping the underside of Thorin's wrists lightly in his own grip, and the two of them stood there, frozen by the moment.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>In the half light of the dim candles that lit the hall, and the faint blue tint of the moon as it shone in through the window, Bilbo found that he could not tear his eyes from Thorin, who was watching him with that same guarded expression, though Bilbo thought he caught an edge of sadness within. It broke his heart to see it, but he didn't want to risk the moment by speaking. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He was still struggling for something more to do when Thorin's hand broke from his light grip, coming up to trace the edge of Bilbo's jaw ever so lightly. It was the barest of touches, feather light and almost imperceptible but Bilbo leaned into it, never looking away. The pads of Thorin's fingers pressed more intently to Bilbo's skin, and they trailed slowly up the side of his face, tracing only the faintest edge of a nail along the curve of his ear, and Bilbo swallowed thickly at the sensation, unable to help the shiver that ran down the length of his body.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>And perhaps it was that which broke the spell, for Thorin seemed to blink from whatever stupor he had been caught up in, his expression pulling tight and briefly melancholic before he wrest his other hand from Bilbo's grip and moved to unlock his door. He had half opened it when he paused, hand splayed over the door, and glanced back from under a curtain of dark hair. "Good night, Bilbo."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Good night," Bilbo replied softly, and saw Thorin's hand flex briefly against the door before he nodded his head once, swiftly, and ducked inside, closing the door behind him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>It was only then, standing and swaying with fatigue in the hallway, that Bilbo remembered that he did not actually have a room for the night.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>➶</p>
</div><div>
  <p>This was not how this job was supposed to go. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Or, at least, that was what Bilbo was trying to convince himself of as he sat just outside the dwarves' camp, staring at the lot of them with a baleful glare. It was night—late too, if the dip of the moon above them was true. Yet there Bilbo sat, staring back at the collection of dwarves with an angry furrow to his brow, as the one on watch—a redheaded dwarf with three pointed tufts of hair—rolled a coin over his fingers expertly, staring out into the darkness. Away from Bilbo. Who was <em>still</em> sitting out in the open at the edge of their camp.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He missed Azalea. She had been good, intelligent company to keep, but he had left her in the stables at the Prancing Pony, paying the stablehand handsomely to ensure that he would send her back to The Shire as soon as he was able. So Bilbo had trailed the dwarves on foot, and if that hadn't embittered him against them alone, any excess shreds of pity that he may have felt for these dwarves had gone straight out the window as soon as he had seen how truly incompetent they were. Really. The only one who had shown even a shred of sense had been Thorin and—</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Well. That was an entirely different problem. One which twined uncomfortably with why, precisely, Bilbo was still here. On the surface, he was still darkly aware of how, if Thorin had been so receptive to his joining them on their journey, it meant that he was in no way frightened off by hobbits and their potentially thieving ways. Which, in turn, meant that the dwarf could easily send word to all his kin in the Blue Mountains about an excellent path to take to get to the Iron Hills, don't mind the hobbits, they're harmless,<em> really</em>. And of <em>course</em> that wouldn't do.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>But then, on the topic of Thorin, Bilbo felt a twist in his gut as he thought about the bittersweet way he had looked at him, had talked to him, had <em>touched</em> him. And that image of Thorin's eyes on his as his hand mapped the path of his jawline had stuck in Bilbo's mind like caramel to a tooth, and he couldn't be rid of it. So, he had decided that instead of taking Thorin's clasp—his incredibly expensive, beautifully hand-carved, <em>mithril</em> clasp, at that—Bilbo would simply steal a handful of other beads or rings, and call his job a success. Perhaps it wouldn't scare the dwarves, but it would rid Bilbo of that heavy, aching guilt that hollowed at his stomach, and that was a kind of success too. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And so here he was, searching the dwarves for some kind of gem or <em>something</em> to steal so he could leave, return to the Shire, and never think of dwarves and sharp blue eyes in shadow again. A flawless plan, and as the fire let out one last dying flicker of sparks and illuminated the shift of gold in the hair of the only blond dwarf, Bilbo stood up and began to creep his way through the shadows.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Of course Bilbo, who had long been considered the strangest hobbit in the Shire, had perhaps forgotten that most important feature of a hobbit: their need for seven meals in one day. And so, as Bilbo was plucking beads from the blond dwarf's hair, he was horrified to hear the grumbling roil of his stomach alerting him to its displeasure. Bilbo jerked upright, instinctively backing up until he heard a cry behind him. Whirling around, Bilbo couldn't stop the littany of curses that whirled through his brain like sirens as he spotted that same brutish dwarf with the twin axes, only he was dropping his bundle of firewood and reaching for them now, and <em>Yavanna's sweet mercy</em> he needed to go <em>now</em>.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Bilbo ran full tilt towards the forest, unable to keep his steps quiet as he darted over the pebbled ground. He cast an eye over his shoulder just in time to duck the swinging arc of a battleaxe, and used the momentum to push forward into a roll, dodging another dwarf who had just woken up and was stumbling over himself in order to get out of the way of a second axe. In the split second of reprieve that Bilbo found then, he cast his eye about, mind buzzing at the realization that he'd have to turn around. Still, his heart was racing, and even though he had narrowly escaped with his life—or perhaps, <em>was currently</em> in the process of escaping with his life—he felt more alive than he had in ages. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>With a quick pivot on one heel, Bilbo turned to faced the dwarf and, without a moment's hesitation, lunged towards him. Bilbo had predicted he wouldn't flinch, and he instead seemed to brace himself for the impact. Bilbo grinned at that, and at the last second deked to the right and kicked off the flat edge of a boulder, jumping into the air. With his other foot he caught the dwarf's bald head, finding purchase to kick off and leaving the dwarf crumpling back into the dirt as Bilbo soared over the brush, landing with a heavy thump between the trees. He refused to look back, only pushing himself to race deeper into the woods. He only allowed himself to slow down when he eventually stumbled upon a large pine with low-hanging branches. Bilbo climbed it easily, making it about halfway up before he settled himself on a sturdy branch and, after patting his pocket to ensure his newly-won prizes were still clattering about, balanced himself against the trunk and fell asleep. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>➶</p>
</div><div>
  <p>By the time they reached that strange alcove near a burned out farmhouse, Bilbo had amassed quite a collection: a small, precious glass bottle of tonic, two sachets of expensive loose tea, a rather fetching carved wooden bird, more travel rations than perhaps could be considered safe to consume, and a pocketful of jingling dwarven beads. It wasn't quite the bounty he had expected when he set out, but as he counted them out and packed away his prizes in the pockets that lined his waistcoat, Bilbo felt satiated in his tokens. Now all he had to do was, well. Return one of them.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He turned the mithril clasp over in hand, only glancing up once as he scanned the dwarf company going about their meal. Gandalf had been there earlier, but had apparently had a bit of a row with Thorin and stormed off into the brush, leaving Bilbo with a window of opportunity to go about his... not-quite-thieving. His <em>returning</em>. Eru, but he was going soft in his old age. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Except. Bilbo blinked, narrowing his eyes at the company and mentally tallying their numbers, continuously coming up short. The blond and the dark-haired archer. He absently thumbed at the beads he had taken from the blond a handful of days before, scanning the clearing and, briefly, casting a hesitant look over one shoulder. For the briefest of moments, he worried that they were sneaking up on <em>him</em>, but then Bilbo remembered the night before, when the archer had been trying to skim an extra ladle of soup and had, instead, tripped into the cook and knocked him into a pile of rucksacks which, in turn, collapsed over the pile of weapons that had been let out for sharpening. The resulting clatter had been enough to wake the dead and Bilbo alike, who had been trying and failing to catch an early sleep. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>So, no. He didn't think that they could possibly be able to sneak up on him, and his suspicions were confirmed when he heard a crashing clatter of tree branches and rocks going flying indiscriminately from across the way. From deep in the trees appeared the two dwarves, panting and absolutely covered in an array of organic matter, and Bilbo could only sigh at the antics of dwarven youth, instead turning his attention to the more pressing problem at hand.</p>
  <p>He had been scoping out Thorin's own gear, and had narrowed his focus to the small bedroll set slightly apart from the rest of the group. It was strange, surely. Bilbo hadn't learned of Thorin's background that night, but with the evidence that hung heavy in his breast pocket, he assumed that Thorin must have been the head of this particular group of merchants—for what else could they possibly be? Certainly not commoners travelling halfway across the world to visit their family. Bilbo scoffed at the very idea, but came up short when he realised that his scoff was the only sound that he heard. Looking back at the dwarven commotion, he gaped as he realised that they were all <em>gone</em>. Just like that! </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The burgling part of his brain rebelled at the very thought—<em>anyone</em> could just swan in and take whatever they please!—but the practical half of him warned of this rare opportunity, one which Bilbo refused to squander. He ducked low on instinct, skimming over the ground and over to Thorin's niche. As he crouched low over his bag, beginning to pick at the buckles and ties that kept it closed and tight against water, Bilbo cast an automatic, half-absent glance up and <em>froze</em>. There, lumbering through the trees, was a huge ugly grey troll carrying two squealing ponies. Bilbo gawped at the shape as it thumped ahead, and he was suddenly aware of how little attention he had been paying to his surroundings, swearing to himself that he'd keep an eagle eye out should he ever escape this particular predicament alive. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>But it seemed that that wasn't an issue. The troll hadn't noticed him at all, instead heading deeper into the trees and Bilbo craned his neck to spot the faint, distant glow of firelight. In his second leap of logic in as many moments, Bilbo felt a burbling scream threaten to burst from his throat as he realised precisely where the dwarven party had gone. He dropped his head to his hands, and Bilbo allowed himself the briefest of moments of utter and complete incredulity at dwarves and dwarven stupidity—and perhaps even hobbitish stupidity if he truly was going to do what he was about to do—and stood, tossing Thorin's bag to the ground petulantly before beginning to make his way towards the treeline. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The trolls were not particularly hard to follow. Perhaps that was a boon, but Bilbo would have liked a bit of extra time to figure out a plan, because altogether too soon he found himself hovering at the edge of the camp, staring at the scene before him. Several dwarves had been gathered together on a roasting spit while the rest had been piled unceremoniously off to one side of the troll camp, all of them stuffed into sacks of varying levels of cleanliness ranging from filthy to absolutely disgusting. Bilbo spotted Thorin in one of the sacks, somehow still looking a fair bit dashing in the flickering firelight, though Bilbo's eyes swiftly moved onto the three much <em>larger</em> problems before him. The trolls were arguing amongst themselves.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"They jus' ran on in, quick as y'please! They must <em>want</em> ter be eaten!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"No, Bert!" Bilbo had no means of differentiating the three trolls, as they were each of them quite ugly, quite large, and quite grey. "What if it's a trap! Or what if there are more to eat out in the forest?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>That troll didn't seem to understand the paradoxical nature of what he had said, and neither did the other two. "Wot, like they're poisoned?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Dwarves do all tha' minin' and diggin', maybe they're covered in dirt?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Or it adds flavour!" </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Bilbo had had quite enough. He cast a helpless look into the silent, unwavering trees around him, and when he received no response, set to work. Picking his way through the bushes as quietly as he was able, Bilbo studied the ground with his sharp eyes, plucking various familiar plants as he ran, eventually coming upon a bushel of trees and plants tall enough to obscure his figure. He did a quick scan of the foliage he had gathered: foxglove, belladonna, hemlock, wolfsbane. Cupping a hand about his mouth, Bilbo took a deep breath and called out, "Oy, you lot oughta add in a bit of rosemary!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You wot?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Who wassat?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I fink it came from o'er there!" The troll pointed vaguely in the direction of the low-lying growth, but Bilbo was already gone, halfway around the perimeter of their camp and unable to keep the grin from his face as he called out again. "Sage works too. Absolutely delightful when cooking dwarf!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I ain't never ate sage before." </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Well I've eaten plenty o' dwarf, and I don' want ter go changin' my recipe now!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>The second troll began to storm imperiously towards where Bilbo's voice had come from just then, but he was now creeping over the boulders behind the dwarves in their sacks, eyeing the trolls over the edge of one stone. The first troll was still tromping about at the edge of the camp and trailing his way into the forest as Bilbo glanced down at the dwarves and froze when he met Thorin's gaze. The dwarf's eyes went wide as saucers as he made the connection, looking as if he was about to open his mouth to speak when Bilbo slid down and out of sight, calling out as he ran, "Trust me! I've eaten lots of dwarf. Probably more than you, and I think bay leaves are the best addition to any dwarf stew."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Didn' he jus' say sage?" The last troll in the camp began to amble over towards the dwarves, frowning down at them as they hollered and yelled from within their sacks, the sound somewhat muffled. Spotting his chance, Bilbo ducked low in the shadows, racing forward and dumping the armful of flora into the stew before scurrying back into the shadows. The trolls, not hearing any further voices, wandered back over to the stew. "Did y'put the sage in already?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"No, I thought ye put in the rosemary already!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I don' even know what tha' is," the last troll leaned forward, sipping from the stew. "It's quite good."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Lemme have a try!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"No, I want another spoonful!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>The trolls began to squabble amongst themselves, and Bilbo watched carefully as they each fought to drink the stew, apparently having forgotten their initial plans. But it seemed to be nevertheless effective, as one by one the trolls began to grow lethargic, their voices slurring and their movements slowing until they each collapsed to the ground. Bilbo straightened where he stood, still in shadowed darkness, and felt the fear drain from his body. He hadn't even been aware it was there, but he stumbled as he walked, the relief a pleasant, drunken buzz that washed over him as he moved. He had just made it back to the dwarves when he spotted another figure duck out from the darkness and shoot a wide smile towards Thorin. "You seem to have gotten yourself into quite a situation, my friend."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"And I would appreciate if you could let us out, <em>Tharkûn</em>." Thorin's expression had melted from its shock into something warmer at the sight of Gandalf, and the wizard only chuckled and cast a hand over the dwarves in their sacks, freeing them easily. They set to work immediately on the dwarves still tied to the roasting spit—Bofur seemed to have gotten rather well-toasted as he had been on the bottom when the trolls begun bickering—and Bilbo relaxed as he leaned against a tree, thumb skating over the small clasp in his pocket like a worry stone. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And perhaps his relief was what did him in at the end. Perhaps he was so shaken by the lengths that he had gone to for these dwarves whom he hardly knew—or maybe it was being spied by Thorin and seeing those piercing blue eyes so soon after he had already said his mental farewells. Whatever the case, Bilbo Baggins, gentlehobbit and burglar extraordinaire, did not hear the lumbering steps of a dwarf behind him, nor did he feel the slip of cloth over his mouth or the smell of sweet poultice until it was too late, his eyes falling shut and his body growing loose as he tumbled into darkness.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>➶</p>
</div><div>
  <p>When he awoke, it was to a flickering fire and enormous dwarven arms crossed over hands that were dark with runic tattoos. Bilbo, ever the avid scholar, leaned forward to try and read what they said. The dwarf leaned down and instead, Bilbo got an eyeful of an angry red bruise and an even angrier set to the face of the dwarf he had escaped only a few nights before. "Hello."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I think we oughta kill him and leave."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Oh, well," Bilbo sniffed, leaning back and wriggling his extremities to gauge how he had been bound. Seemingly, his hands were tied with only thin leather cording, but there was enough of it to still pose a rather considerable problem. Blasted dwarves and their crafty ingenuity. "That would be rather rude, I think. I <em>did</em> just save your lives."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"And steal our things and eat our food," the angry dwarf replied flatly, but he was joined then by another shape, and Bilbo's stomach bottomed out as he saw Thorin step into place before him, arms crossed and eyes wary. "Besides, who's ter say you were what saved us? 'S far as I know, ye were arguing over how ter eat us."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Dwalin," Thorin unfolded his arms, waving his hand at Dwalin absently, his eyes never leaving Bilbo. "He was the <em>murbarub</em>. Leave us, I'll deal with him."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Bilbo swallowed thickly, almost preferring the bitter anger of Dwalin to the cool confusion that played across Thorin's face. Instead of watching him as he crouched to face Bilbo head on, Bilbo glanced around the rest of the camp, surprised to see it so empty and devoid of dwarves. As if sensing his question, Thorin offered an answer. "They're bathing in the streams. I wished to deal with you myself."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Ah," Bilbo replied, and steeled himself before looking back at Thorin, whose wide clear eyes were deep with confusion and... hurt? Yavanna help him, but Bilbo had never felt guilt like this in all his years of thieving. "A nasty business all around, to be sure."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Made nastier by betrayal."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Bilbo blew out a gust of breath, eyeing Thorin carefully and trying to gauge his game, what he wanted. But Thorin's expression was unhelpfully open, truly disarmed by Bilbo's actions. "And what's the dwarven penalty for thievery, then?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"It depends on who you steal from," Thorin tilted his head, a strange expression crossing his face, almost like a spasm. "The highest penalty is death, should you steal from the King."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Well, it's all well and good I didn't do that then, isn't it?" Bilbo hummed, but he watched Thorin's expression shift minutely, almost a cringe, and his foolish, slow mind connected the dots at last. "Oh, Eru save me from my own idiocy. Who else would have mithril hair clasps, I suppose?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"None else," Thorin agreed, and Bilbo only shook his head, letting out a bitter laugh at his realisation. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Well then,<em> your majesty</em>, I would appreciate a swift death should you be able to find it in your heart to give it to me," Bilbo eyed the sword that was strapped to Thorin's side, a wicked curving thing that certainly<em> looked</em> like it could lop a hobbit's head off.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Thorin didn't move, still watching Bilbo with those careful eyes. "Why did you do it?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Well," Bilbo paused, wondering if he ought to spill his story and figuring that if he was to die, it would be nice for it to be with someone knowing his story. "I <em>am</em> a thief, and a good thief at tha—"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I was under the impression that hobbits did not partake in such proclivities."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Yes well, most hobbits don't." Bilbo sniffed. "I do it to keep you lot away from our lands and—"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"We're quite far from your lands now—"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Would <em>your majesty</em> please stop interrupting me!" Bilbo hissed, and Thorin frowned mightily.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"My apologies. Proceed." He looked somewhat contrite, but perhaps that was more because he was being made to apologize to the thief who had stolen his most precious heirloom than anything else.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"<em>As I was saying</em>, I steal minor things from passing travelers as an easy way of frightening them away from the Shire and, I suppose, making a living for myself."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Are most travellers afraid of a petty thief?" Thorin looked more confused than anything else, casually looking Bilbo up and down as Bilbo glared at him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I can be quite scary, you know." Bilbo eyed Thorin's sword and briefly wondered if he was going about this all wrong. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Thorin chuckle was as surprising as the easing of his tension, and Bilbo was once again reminded of Thorin's fickle moods. "I don't doubt it, <em>murbarub</em>." </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Bilbo frowned at the strange word, straightening up and trying not to be too distracted by the way Thorin's laugh made something in his chest ache. "What does that mean? It's not Westron, is it?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>The smile slid from his face then, and Thorin almost seemed to wince, ducking his head and speaking to the ground instead. "I'm afraid I cannot say."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Bilbo huffed. "<em>Dwarves, </em>with all your... <em>secrets</em>." His wrists were beginning to ache against the scratch and scrape of their bindings, and all over again Bilbo became aware of his situation. "Well, if you're going to kill me, you may wish to do so soon. I doubt your company can bathe for much longer."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>That got Thorin's attention. His head reared up, and there was that look again, soft and hurt, as if Bilbo was the one throwing about threats of beheadings. Had Thorin said he would be beheaded? It mattered not, Bilbo supposed. "I don't <em>wish</em> to kill you."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Well," Privately, Bilbo thought that that didn't matter all that much. If Thorin went and killed him without wanting to, it may have even been worse. "Didn't you say it was your law?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"<em>Yes.</em>" Thorin looked frustrated, and Bilbo wondered if he was somehow mucking this up more for himself. "But that doesn't mean I wish it upon you."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Well," Bilbo hesitated at his wording. "What <em>do</em> you wish, then?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>There was a long pause then as Thorin ducked his head again, twisting to look away from Bilbo even as he refused to move from where he crouched. He hovered before Bilbo like a spectre and distantly, Bilbo thought he could hear the sound of dwarves splashing about in the river. He wondered what scene they would return to. Before he could follow that train of thought any further, Thorin broke through his thoughts. "Why did you follow us this far?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Bilbo frowned, opening his mouth to reply before Thorin pressed on, cutting him off as he seemed wont to do. "We're well past your lands. Well past the boundaries of any <em>murbarub</em> thieves."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>There was something else beneath his voice, a kind of twisting confusion. A quiet '<em>why me?'</em> that Bilbo heard clear as day, and he found himself spilling his words like water over river stones. "I... I wanted to return your hair clasp. It felt wrong to keep it after I met you, but I couldn't well justify leaving empty-handed, so... I made up for it through other means." He narrowed his eyes. "Speaking of, where did you put all my finds?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Thorin still wasn't looking at him. "They were returned to their rightful owners."</p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>But</em>... Bilbo rolled his shoulders and felt the telltale weight of the hair clasp in his pocket, its bulk having become a familiar talisman over these past few days. "You didn't take back the clasp."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"No, I didn't." Thorin raised his head then, meeting Bilbo's gaze from beneath lowered lashes, and Bilbo felt the roil of his stomach at the openness of his expression.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Thorin—"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You said before that you wouldn't join us. But now you sit here before me, having followed me—however unintentionally—far further than many of my kin ever would have dared." Bilbo felt the skin of his arm jump at the touch of Thorin's hand against it, the rough and calloused pads of his fingers tracing across the fabric of his coat and oh, what Bilbo would have done then to feel even the faintest touch. "Would you not follow me to the ends of our quest? There is a great treasure that we seek and we find ourselves in want of a burglar."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>It took a second for him to fully process what Thorin was saying. For the briefest of moments, he entertained the image of riding through the Wild astride a curly-haired pack pony, barricaded in on all sides by rowdy dwarves, maybe even a wizard or two. He thought about subsisting on rations and the occasional travel stew, of seeing the world and slipping through mountain shadows and over piles of golden coin, and... he wasn't afraid. In fact, he felt his heartbeat quicken at the thought, his blood thrumming beneath his skin and fingers itching to be put to a <em>true</em> test of his skill. "I— okay."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Thorin had turned away from him in the time it had taken Bilbo to fathom his words, but he jerked back to attention at Bilbo's voice, looking even more alarmed than Bilbo felt. "Truly?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Yes, truly," Bilbo grinned, riding the adrenaline rush that was rapidly threatening to send his heart bursting from his chest. He was practically glowing as his mind turned to more pressing realisations. "Oh, what I wouldn't give to see the reactions from my neighbours! I admit, half the reason I'm interested in this little escapade is simply to see my cousin Lobelia's response when she finds out that I've gone adventurin—"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>But all thoughts of Lobelia were promptly wiped from Bilbo's mind at the quick press of lips to his, and Bilbo had to strain his neck to kiss back, if only so he wouldn't tip over and fall backwards onto the soft earth. Thorin seemed to sense this, dropping one steadying hand to the ground while he wound the other through Bilbo's hair, cupping the back of his head and neither pushing nor pulling, but simply tangling his fingers through Bilbo's curls. The kiss itself was cloyingly sweet, all banked heat and unconcerned slowness, and Bilbo let himself sink into it like quicksand, drowning in the curling press of Thorin's body as it surrounded him. Of course, the fire chose that moment to crackle, a sharp <em>pop</em> that had Thorin jerking away and falling back onto one awkwardly placed arm, half-poised as if he meant to scramble away at any second. "I'm sorry, that was—"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"No, no," Bilbo wriggled his wrists and freed himself easily, having already found a loose knot minutes ago when they had been conversing. Thorin looked alarmed again but Bilbo only used that to his advantage, shifting forward and hovering close, one hand pressed lightly to Thorin's knee in a silent question. Bilbo offered up a careful smile. "I believe that that would be my other reason for coming along on this madcap adventure." And he ducked forward to kiss Thorin back.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>His mind was still whirling with everything that had happened in the past twelve hours, and though kissing Thorin was like a cooling balm to the mess, something still stirred at the back of his mind. Bilbo pulled away from the heat of Thorin's mouth on his, amused at their awkward folding over each other, with him half-covering Thorin's chest and propped up on a stiff arm, Thorin's arm slung over his back and his knee bracketing Bilbo's thigh. "Wait, what do you need a burglar for?" </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Ah," said Thorin, and he began to de-tangle himself slowly, looking for all the world as if he had just drank the sourest of ales. "Hm. Perhaps I should start at the beginning. What do you know of dragons?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>➶</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>KHUZDÛL DICTIONARY:<br/><i>Damâmafh</i> - Lit. blood bead, and here is sort of meant to be an heirloom hair clasp, passed down from parent to child<br/><i>Uthrab</i> - Thief<br/><i>Tharkûn</i> - Lit. Grey-man/Staff-man, but is essentially the Khuzdûl name for Gandalf<br/><i>Murbarub</i> - Lit. tiny ghost, but here sort of translates to a sprite or a pixie. Essentially, Thorin's given him a bit of a pet name akin to a small mischievous fae creature, which, well. Fitting.<br/>➶</p><p>Bird's bone mushroom is my approximate translation of an oyster mushroom, if only because I doubt hobbits would call them that, seeing as they're terrified of the ocean. The particular bird's bone in question are their sternal keels. Also, it's not made explicit, but I think that Thorin "giving" Bilbo his hair clasp would likely have very deep meaning for dwarves, especially since it's an heirloom (and a mithril one at that). I like to imagine he braided Bilbo's hair with it later (◡‿◡✿)<br/>➶</p><p>!!!! I also have an almost-finished bagginshield summer romance AU at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20493176</p></blockquote></div></div>
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